Chapter 24

"You're crying, lass." Came the warm, concerned voice of Andrew Galloway. When Tressa looked up, he was standing beside her, his eyes sweeping her face. Only a single tear had fallen and his brows drew together. "Is everything all right, Tressa?" He asked quietly, tapping the bar top. "I'll have what the lady is, and her drinks are on me." Vodka, she was drinking vodka and cranberry, a good way to kill the liver while flushing out the kidneys, he supposed. "May I?" He gestured to the empty barstool beside her, waiting until she gave a one-shoulder shrug before sliding onto it.

"You don't have to do that, Andrew…" He held his hand up, insisting on paying for her drinks, and waved her off dismissively. There was no point arguing with the Scotsman as she wiped another tear away with her finger, sipping her fourth drink. "Thank you."

He held his drink up and she did the same thing, tapping them lightly together. From the looks of it, he was drinking either bourbon or whiskey. Vodka just had that specific taste for her that was perfect and that's why she kept gravitating back to it.

"Have you ever lost someone, Andrew? Someone who meant…the world to you, your soulmate, your heart?" Tressa slowly looked up at him with fresh tears in her haunting greys and the amount of anguish on her face couldn't be missed.

And that was the most beautiful look he had ever seen, his eyes riveted on her face. This woman was born to wear anguish, it gave her this haunted beauty that made his heart almost ache for her. It definitely made his crotch ache and if not for his briefs and tight slacks, it definitely would have been standing at attention. Misery on Tressa was gorgeous. He was a peculiar man with peculiar tastes and the head seamstress had already antagonized him with her deceit, her lies about being married and unavailability, but then whoring herself out to Dean Ambrose and likely the other two members of the now defunct Shield.

"Nay, I haven't." He rumbled down at her in reply.

She sniffled, looking away from him and back down at her drink, swirling the red liquid around in the glass before taking a long swig of it. "Be grateful, then. Because not all of us are that lucky." Tressa wasn't intimidated by him, not like she'd been before, and it also helped he was sitting beside her instead of standing to tower over her. When Andrew asked who she had lost, Tressa began to cry, unable to hold the tears back, and buried her face in her hands, her wedding ring flashing at him. "My husband." She whispered, not trusting her voice, and felt Andrew slowly pry her hands away from her face to once again locking eyes with him. "He died…8 months ago…and I miss him…"

All of Drew's assumptions of her screwing all three members of the Shield had been DEAD wrong.

It was her fault his assumptions were wrong because she had lied to him instead of just telling him flat out she was a grieving widow. That right there told him she had mental issues, and he knew for a fact she wasn't grieving as much as she pretended to because she had been hopping on Ambrose's dick for quite some time. Any normal, rational person would have told the truth. So she was a lying, attention-seeking whore. Any guilt he might have felt disappeared with that thought.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Tressa." He said gently, rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones, catching those tears.

"Thank you, Andrew," Tressa murmured, having no idea what he was thinking or feeling towards her at the moment. If she did, she would have run out of there instantly and gotten away from him. Unfortunately, she wasn't a mind reader and he was being sweet towards her, not to mention Tressa was a tad tipsy from the drink she'd had. "Enough about me," She paused, wiping the rest of her tears away with the napkin he handed her. "What brings you out tonight?" She asked softly, placing a hand on his forearm and had to admit, Andrew was a very handsome man. He had deep blue ocean blue eyes, not pale like Jon's, and he had dyed his hair black, which worked a lot better for him than his natural color. It made him look more menacing and malicious, but then again, his in-ring character was supposed to be those qualities since he was a heel. "Woman troubles?"

"I've got no woman, and therefore no troubles." He laughed gently, shaking his head, and reached over with his free hand to squeeze the top of hers before pulling it away. Considering she had been a bit intimidated by him before and was now touching him of her own volition, that was progress. "Though, I don't usually get in trouble when I do have one," He reached into his pocket, procuring a pocket handkerchief, and offered it to her. When she eyed it, he turned on his stool and slowly reached out, using it to mop up her face. "There you go." Losing her husband at such a young age…even he couldn't fathom a loss like that.

"You know, I'll admit, you can be a very intimidating man at first," Tressa confessed, pulling her hand away from his arm to take a long swallow of her Vodka cranberry, sighing at the burning tartness flowing down her throat. "It's just…your stature, how big you are…" She blushed, not meaning it the way it came out, and cleared her throat. "Your physique. You're very intimidating, but…you're really not that bad now that I'm sitting here talking to you like this." She held her glass up to his with a soft smile. "Here's to not judging books by their covers and discovering what's in the pages first."

"That is a worthy toast, lass, I'll drink to it." He laughed, clinking his glass gently against hers. "Now if you were to ask me mam, she'd tell you I was nothing but a big softy. And God's own fool for the black hair dye," Now that he wasn't on television, his burr was a bit softer, less raspy. "Now, forgive me if I'm being nosy or overstepping my boundaries, Tressa, but aren't your friends around my size?" And by friends, he meant the meat heads of the Shield, her boys, or whatever it was. He knew the running joke backstage was that she was a mascot, or had been.

She and Ambrose hadn't exactly been on speaking terms in a while.

Tressa lowered her eyes, already knowing what he was probably thinking or assuming about her in regard to her relationship with Colby, Joe, and…Jon. She was still angry at Jon for what happened last night and didn't want to talk about him, heaving a sigh. "Joe and…Ambrose, yes." Why couldn't she just use Jon's name? It hurt – her heart hurt after the nasty words he said to her followed by the angry sex they had. "Colby, not so much. They're like my brothers…two of them, anyway." Rubbing the back of her neck, Tressa finished her drink and Andrew immediately ordered her another one. "If I didn't know any better, Andrew, I'd think you were trying to liquor me up." Her voice had a teasing tone to it, grey eyes glazing over just a little. "You're not that kind of guy though, are you?" How could he be when he was mopping her tears up like a gentleman?

"Ye easier to talk to when ye had a few in ye." Drew admitted with a sheepish smile. "Usually, dearie, ye cut conversations short whenever I try to talk to ye." His smile turned self-deprecating. "And I'll have ye know, I'm keeping pace with ye now," He gestured to his own coming refill. "A little liquid courage to help keep me plucky." Because bravery usually came in the form of alcohol. "Just say when and I'll have them cut us both off." And he figured if she saw someone else pouring the drinks, she might be more comfortable.

Single woman in a bar, date rape was a thing.

She chewed her bottom lip, feeling ashamed for not giving him a chance to at least talk to her. They were coworkers and it wasn't very professional or kind of her to brush him off the way she did. "I'm sorry, Andrew. As I said, you're a very intimidating guy, and…you scared me, at first." Alcohol also helped loosen the tongue quite a bit. "I was a fool and like my toast earlier, never judge a book by its cover." She was also experiencing grief and heartache over her husband's death and only talked to Jon because of their bond…their friendship.

Drew nodded to the barkeep when their refills and fresh napkins were set down before them before giving his attention back to Tressa. It was easy to spot that wave of sadness that washed over her face before she hitched her smile back into place. If not for the fact that he had seen it, he wouldn't have thought anything was wrong. Even with as many drinks as she had, she was quick on the recovery. The woman was no lightweight drinker and he had to wonder if she knocked back heavier stuff in private.

"Well, now knowing what I do, I don't think I'll be holding it against you, Tressa." He reached out to gently place his hand on her kneecap, squeezed once, and pulled it away, his eyes never leaving her face.

Oh, if only he knew what she'd been delving in to help cope with Joseph's death. Straight Vodka, no cranberry, which lightened it, surprisingly. "You're a really nice guy, Andrew."

Reaching up, she smoothed away some of the liquor from his goatee on the top of his lip with the pad of her thumb, her eyes searching his. Tressa didn't know why she did that and hitched in a breath when his lips kissed her thumb, feeling tingles rush through her body. Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips slowly, just the slightest bit as her hand pulled away from his face and Tressa suddenly felt the temperature in the room skyrocket.

"I-I should probably go back up to my room…" Her voice was low and soft, quiet, with just a hint of hesitation mixed in as Tressa slowly stepped off her stool, not being hasty like she normally was at the arenas. "Don't stay up too late. You have a big match tomorrow, mister."

He did, but that match was the very last thing on his mind at this exact moment. Whatever had possessed Tressa to do that…he wanted to get to know THAT part of her, quite a bit. He reached out after turning on the stool to take her hands gently but firmly, pulling her to stand between his spread legs.

"It's still early, Tressa." He rumbled, using his thumbs to stroke her palms, his blue eyes locked with hers, noting the flush in her cheeks.

Taking a chance, he ran his palm up her wrist, his thumb feeling her pulse for a moment and noting how rapid it was. Was she scared or excited? There went her tongue, darting out to the corner of her mouth again and he inwardly groaned, his hand moving to the back of her neck and caressing her nape.

"Have one more drink with me." He requested, his voice coming out a husky pitch.

His eyes reminded her so much of the ocean, so beautiful yet dangerous at the same time. That husky, Scottish accent of his was sexy…Andrew was sexy. Her hands slid up his dress shirt-covered chest while getting lost in those eyes, dark blue mixing with deep grey, and Andrew covered her hands with his own to press against him. Christ, she could feel the heat radiating beneath the material of that shirt, along with the rippling muscles, and felt her heartbeat quicken again. Would one more drink really hurt? Did she really want to go back up to her room, to the loneliness and silence?

"I think you want more than a drink with me, Andrew." Tressa finally spoke in a voice that only he could hear and the smirk curving his lips spoke volumes to her. "I-I don't know if I – if WE should…"

"Aye, I want to have more than a drink with ye," Drew admitted, his blue eyes darkening a bit as he took her in. His hands caught hers, pulling them up until her palms slid up onto his shoulders. This also forced her to step into him since she was so much shorter than he was, and he could feel the heat radiating from her body. "Being the gentleman I am, I am offering that drink down here." Where there was no pressure. He bent down, just barely allowing his nose to ghost along her cheek until his lips were near, but not quite touching her ear. "Unless you want to go have a drink upstairs." In one of their rooms.

His accent could melt igloos and the polar ice caps, Tressa thought, shivering at the feel of his hot breath against her cheek and ear and her hands tightened on his very broad, muscular shoulders. Why did Jon have to pressure her so much? Why couldn't he understand all she was looking for was sex, a release, an escape? "Andrew…" His name came out in a breathy whisper as he pulled back enough to stare into her slightly darker greys. "I'm damaged…"

In more ways than one because Tressa was confused about her feelings for Jon and now, here she was, in the arms of another man. He wasn't pressuring or pushing her either and it felt…right being with Andrew for some strange reason. Was this Joseph's doing? Guiding her where she needed to go?

"I think…we'd be more comfortable upstairs, don't you?"

She was damaged all right, but he wasn't holding that against her because unlike most people, Tressa was honest about it. Her damage, her misery, gave her a heartbreaking, haunting beauty and he nodded, his cheek brushing against hers. "Come on then, love," Drew felt her hands dropping, catching one, and turned towards the bar, using his free hand to procure a few bills from his wallet and tossed them onto the counter. "Have ye ever had genuine Scottish whiskey?" He was guiding her out of the bar. "I ken tell those cranberry drinks are not your usual." Nor his to be honest. He had been serious about 'one more drink', and it wouldn't be a quick one.

Drew wrapped his arm firmly around her, keeping her tucked into his side.

"No, they're not. I usually drink straight Vodka from the bottle." Tressa confessed quietly, leaning into his side with her arm wrapped around his waist and letting him guide her up to his room. "I've never tried Scottish whiskey, but I'm willing to try anything once." Life was too short not too. "Within reason, of course." She quickly amended with a cheeky smile, thankful they were taking the elevator instead of the stairs.

Once they were outside of Drew's room, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside, a hand on the small of her back. She walked in, wrapping her arms around herself because there was a slight chill in the air while Drew retrieved the tumblers with the Scottish whiskey. Instead, that hot breath was back on her neck and ear again, one arm reaching around to hand her a tumbler full of amber liquid with no ice. She slowly turned around to look up at him and let him clink their tumblers together before they both threw them back at the same time.

That liquor went down SMOOTH and it was delicious.